As the Dust Settles
by Zaidie
Summary: In the wake of his addiction Martin feels like he had hit rock bottom. However, when he receives more bad news will he be able to hold it together? Or will he finally fall apart and open up to the woman who holds his heart Smarty. Please R&R. Now Complete
1. The Call

Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, any of the characters, storylines, or actors. However I do own my ideas.

Zai: Okay I'm not exaclty sure where I'm going with this yet so bear with me. This fic is set sometime around season five, although there are no specific eppisode spoliers. This story is mainly about Martin, and it will be Martin/Sam pairing. And as always reviews are grealty appreciated.

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Martin awoke well before the alarm on his bedside was set to ring. Unable to force himself to go back to sleep he got out of bed and began to get ready for the day. He knew he would be at work early, but did not mind, as he knew that work was the only driving force in his life. Martin did not even want to think of where he would be if he did not have his job in which to immerse himself.

Once dressed he headed out into his kitchen. Examining the meagre contents of his fridge, Martin decided maybe it was best if he picked up breakfast on the way to work. Spending as much time as possible away from the emptiness of his apartment had become routine. His apartment was now simply the place where he slept - when he slept.

Everything in his life had been so chaotic recently, and now that the dust was beginning to settle, Martin found himself feeling hopelessly lost and alone.

Ready for work he retrieved his car keys from the kitchen table and headed out of the lonely apartment. Since it was early, the parkade beneath his building was quiet as most of the tenants where not yet heading to work.

During the drive, Martin turned on a radio station and tried to focus on the announcer's commentary rather then continue with his dismal self-reflection. He really had to stop starting the day off on such a depressing note.

After grabbing a quick bite of breakfast, Martin arrived at the office. He stepped out the elevator onto the nearly deserted floor. No one from his team had arrived yet, as they had no case.

Taking advantage of the quiet, Martin started in on the paperwork that always seemed to pile up. It was nearly an hour before Jack arrived followed shortly by other members of the six-person team.

Everyone started in on paperwork, but the quiet morning they all hoped for was put on hold as a case came in. A worried young husband reporting that his wife had not returned from work the previous night.

Vivian set up the new time line, pinning up a smiling picture of a woman in her twenties. Her auburn hair was short and curled around her face. Martin studied the picture and wondered how all the different people who they searched for just became a jumble of cases. She looked so happy and alive in the picture. Martin hoped they would find her, she had a spark in her eye that made it seem like she had a worthwhile life waiting for her.

Jack instructed Danny and Elena to head out to the woman's house to talk to the distraught husband. Sam handed a sheet to Martin and asked him to check the missing woman's finances. He turned back to his computer to begin the simple task he had done hundreds of times.

He had just accessed her records when he was interrupted by the ringing of his desk phone.

"Fitzgerald," he answered automatically.

"Marty, I'm sorry to bother you at work." The familiar voice of his uncle came over the phone, startling Martin.

"Is something wrong?" Martin asked worriedly, unsure why his uncle would be phoning him.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," his uncle said sadly, "But your father's had a stroke, he's critical."

Martin sat at his desk silently, shocked by the news.

"Marty?" His uncle asked uncertainly, checking to make sure his nephew was still on the line.

"Yeah," Martin mumbled quietly.

"I know this must be coming as a shock for you," his uncle continued sympathetically, "But I really think it would be best if you could get to Washington. Your mother is really distraught. She needs you to be there with her."

Martin tried to focus on the voice on the phone, but it sounded so far away. Everything around him seemed so distant, as if none of it was real. "I'll be there soon," Martin said as he finally found his voice, then he dropped the receiver back onto its cradle with a dull thud.

To Martin it felt as if the ground he had been standing on had been jerked from beneath his feet. Not that he and his father were close; as it was, he was not sure when the last time was they had exchanged more then formal pleasantries. In fact Martin was not sure what he felt, if anything. Perhaps it was that numbness that bothered him the most.

Behind him Sam leaned over his shoulder and looked at the screen. "You got anything yet?" She asked startling Martin out of his daze.

"Wha-?" He muttered confused.

"Anything in her finances?" Sam repeated, giving Martin a curious look.

"Sorry," he mumbled anxiously running his fingers through his hair as he got up, "I can't do this right now." Without waiting for her to respond Martin headed for the hallway leaving Sam staring at his retreating figure deeply confused.

Martin walked until he reached the relative solitude of the empty hallway. Leaning against the wall, he slid down into a crouching position trying to process what he had just been told. Thoughts blurred together in his mind._ What if he dies? What if I never get a chance to make things right between us? What about Mom... _

Despite the conflict between them Martin knew where he should be, for his mother if not his father too. He forced himself back to his feet and headed to the office of his supervisor. He rapped gently on the glass door.

Jack looked up to see Martin standing at his office door. With one hand he motioned for the younger agent to come in. Noticing the look of concern on his co-workers face he asked, "Is everything all right?"

Martin shook his head, "I need some to take some personal leave..." Martin trailed off for a moment before finding the words to voice the news his uncle had just given him, "My father's had a stroke."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Martin," Jack said quietly before adding, "Take as much time as you need."

"Thank you," Martin said before making his way out of the glass walled office. He did not bother returning to the bullpen and just headed straight to his car. He knew Sam would wonder where he had taken off to, but he was not sure he wanted to talk about it right now._ Or maybe it was more that he wasn't sure he wanted to open up to her._

After calling the airlines and managing to get a seat on an afternoon flight, Martin headed back to his desolate apartment to pack a small bag for the trip.

- - - - - -

Sam headed back to her own desk after finishing the financial check at Martin's computer. He had disappeared some time ago and not returned. She had known something was amiss when he got up and walked out, but she was completely baffled as to what it could be.

Despite their past Sam still considered Martin a close friend. As of late she had found him particularly distant, but she had told herself it was just the aftermath of the addiction he was struggling with. She wished that he would open up to her more, but she supposed she could not blame him. Even though it was Martin who had ended their relationship, she knew it was because of her forcing a distance between them.

She knew he would not have just taken off without telling Jack and she was tempted to track down their supervisor and ask him about Martin's sudden disappearance, but she did not want to pry.

It was not long before Danny and Elena returned from the husband's house. Jack collected the team, minus Martin, at the conference table to pool what they had gathered so far.

As standard, the team determined what they had collected and added the gathered information to the time line. However, before divvying out the leads to be followed Jack stopped the team.

"Just so you all know, Martin has taken a few days' leave, so we'll be one agent short for the next little while." Jack did not elaborate on the conditions of Martin's absence. It was a personal matter and the team did not need to know any more details of it unless Martin wished to discuss it with them himself.

With that matter out of the way Jack issued their next parts of the investigation and the team returned to work. Sam and Danny exchanged wondering looks, both now worried about their friend and colleague. Neither could remember the last time Martin had requested time off. Especially recently, in fact he seemed to be at work far more then the rest of them


	2. Standing Alone

Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, any of the characters, storylines, or actors. However I do own my ideas.

Zai: Thanks for the reviews! And Specialfrog - It is after Martin has started rehab.

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When Martin arrived at the bustling New York Airport he felt even more lost to the world. Crowds of people moved past him, all absorbed in their own lives not noticing the lone man standing alone in the massive terminal. A familiar feeling of desperation began to overwhelm Martin as he forced himself over to the indicated line, to check his one small hastily packed bag.

The check-in clerk, a petite woman in her mid-twenties, asked him the standard set of questions, had he left his bag unattended and so forth. Martin automatically answered her queries, outwardly maintaining a neutral mask while inwardly his mixed emotions fought to undo him.

The smiling young woman kindly took his bag and pointed him in the direct of his departure gate. He nodded his thanks and headed off to the designated security check point. Once through the increasingly lengthy security process Martin reached the waiting area.

The plastic bench-chairs were even less comfortable then they looked. Martin shifted awkwardly. After a few moments he rose restlessly to his feet and strode aimlessly over the windowed-wall that looked out onto the vast terminal. Leaning against a railing he watched as planes taxied out to the runway where they picked up speed until the nose lifted up and the air craft lifted off the ground.

Fortunately there were no delays and Martin soon found himself settling into his business class seat. He felt immensely relieved when the short balding man who sat beside him pulled out a thick file of work related papers. Martin was not in the mood to be sitting by some over-friendly chatterbox.

However, he also realized this meant he would be alone, lost in his miserable self-reflection for the thankfully short flight. In a desperate attempt to head off the dismal thoughts Martin closed his eyes and tried to think back to a 'happy moment.' Startlingly the first one that drifted into his mind was only a few months old.

_They sat on his sofa together, him and Sam. A bowl of microwave popcorn sat on the coffee table and her head was resting comfortably against him. Sam had insisted on some 'chick-flick' but Martin had not cared. He had missed most of it just watching her, taking in everything about her. The scent of her subtle shampoo, the gentle rising and falling of her chest while she breathed, the silky feeling of her beautifully long blonde hair. He slipped his arm around her, he wanted to hold her forever. _

Martin drove the memory away. Reflected on the woman who had broken his heart was never the way to bring one's mind out of misery. His thoughts went back to way he was on this plane in the first place. _His father. _

He tried to conjure some loving family moment, but every moment he cherished the most seemed to be with his aunt Bonnie's family. He knew there had to have been moments at home, but his father seemed absent or off in the distance of all his childhood memories._ Had his father really been there that little?_

Distractedly, Martin gazed out the small window and allowed his mind to wander aimlessly as he watched the vast white and blue of the clouds and sky.

As the seatbelt indicator came on Martin could feel the plane tilting into the final descent into Washington. The short flight nearing its end, Martin became fidgety as he knew he would soon be in the hospital with his mother and father. He tried to brace himself for the reality that his father was sick. He could never remember a time when his father had been sick before. His father was always the strong one. He provided for the family while his wife kept the home, and Martin finished off the perfect picture. The sweet smiling child to complete the 'family image.' Through his teenage years Martin had wondered more the once if he had only been brought into existence to complete the family man appearance his farther needed in his line of work.

- - - - - -

"Hey, you've reached Martin. I'm not around right now, but if you leave a message I'll get back to you eventually."

As the tone sounded Sam hung up the phone anxiously. Martin was either not home or ignoring the phone. Not that she should even be phoning him. He had obviously taken off for a reason. She should respect that.

However, it nagged at her that she did not know what was wrong. She briefly considered the possibility that he had relapsed. But she dismissed the thought knowing how hard Martin had worked to be clean. He would not just throw all that away unless something was seriously amiss.

Getting up from her desk, Sam forced herself to not call his cell. _If he wants to talk he'll call._ She tried to tell herself, although she was quite certain she was nowhere near the first person he would turn to. _Not anymore. _

Not that she really blamed him. He may have been the one to end their relationship, but she had forced him away until he had finally just given up. She regretted now that everything between them had ended. And now after all these months Sam had come to realize things would never be the same between them again. Outwardly Martin managed to keep up appearances of a friendship. But deep down she could tell they would never be close again.

She had ruined her chance, and she knew that given another chance she was just as likely to do the same. The barriers she had built around her had become so permanent she did not remember what it was like to open herself up to another.

From across the bullpen Vivian beckoned for Sam to join her. Jack had asked them to go to the hospital where Dana Jamieson, their missing person, worked as a night receptionist. Her husband had talked to her over the phone before he headed to bed and she had never arrived home.

Sam grabbed her jacket and headed after Vivian, trying to put her anxiety about Martin out of her mind. She had always managed to bury her feelings while she worked, but her feelings for Martin were beginning to become virtually impossible to set aside. After the ambush, when she had come so close to losing him, thoughts of Martin had occupied much of her time.

Vivian had waited patiently for Sam and together they headed out to the parking lot. Vivian was concerned about Martin as well, but she knew that the younger man could take care of himself. Vivian drove while Sam sat fidgeting in the front passenger seat


	3. Holding it Together

Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, any of the characters, storylines, or actors. However I do own my ideas.

Zai: Thanks for the reviews. Hope you like chapter 3.

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From the Washington airport Martin flagged a cab. The driver seemed like a pleasant enough man but Martin was not in the mood for chatting. He stared aimlessly out the window at the passing city.

The cab neared the large off-white building. The outside was well maintained, with perfectly rectangular floor beds flanking either side of the doorways, and the parking lot was quite crowded. The cab driver pulled up beside the curb at the hospital's main entrance. Martin paid the driver and watched the taxi drive away.

For several moments Martin just stood on the walkway outside the hospital. Hesitantly, he headed towards the automatic glass doors that led into the reception area. Just inside the door Martin's senses were assaulted by the smell of the overly sterile cold air. The atmosphere was naturally subdued and Martin almost regretted his decision to come.

Reluctantly, Martin approached the front desk. "Excuse me?" he asked the older woman who was seated behind the desk.

"Yes?" she questioned, looking up at him through steel-framed glasses.

"I was looking for Victor Fitzgerald's room..."

"Are you family?" she asked conversationally as she typed a search into the computer in front of her.

"Yes, I- I'm his son." Martin said stammering slightly.

"He's on the fourth floor. Room 416," She explained, gesturing to the elevator down the hall. "Just take a right as soon as you leave the elevator and it's about the third door to your left."

"Thank you," Martin replied as he turned and slowly made his way down the long open hall that led to the elevator. To one side there was a large play area where several children were playing quietly. Even the children seemed sombre, causing Martin to wonder what was the harsh reality for those small innocent children.

At the end of the hall there were two elevators, and Martin had to wait only a minute after pressing the call button. The elevator chimed loudly as it opened. Martin stepped into the large empty elevator specially designed to accommodate stretchers. He pressed the fourth floor button, and waited as the elevator ascended swiftly.

Once on the fourth floor, he found the room without problem. At the doorway Martin stopped and peeked into the small, private room. From where he stood he could only see the corner of the standard hospital bed. His mother, her short greying hair obscuring her face, sat on a plastic chair pulled next to the bed. She did not see him standing at the door, she was too absorbed with the whatever she was saying to the person lying in the bed; Victor Fitzgerald, his father.

Suddenly unsure, Martin knocked gently against the frame of the opened door.

"Come in," she answered without looking up. His mother's quite voice sounded thinner and more worn than usual.

Tentatively, he took a couple steps into the pale pastel-coloured hospital room. He could now see his father lying motionlessly in the hospital bed. To Martin, his father had always been a tall, overbearing, controlling man; the man who was laying before him looked nothing like that. Victor Fitzgerald instead looked small and rather pale against the stark white sheets. Martin looked away.

It took him a moment to find his voice, his throat felt oddly dry. "Hi, mom," was all he finally managed to croak.

Hearing his voice his mother turned to look at him. Her pale blue eyes were bloodshot from crying and she looked startlingly tired. "Oh, Marty," she gasped simply. Getting to her feet she wrapped her arms around her only child in a tight hug.

Martin slid his arms around his mother and hugged her back. It had been quite some time since he had seen her, he realized. _It should not take something like this to bring him home._

Momentarily his mother let him go and stepped back. "I'm so glad you've come Marty."

It then dawned on Martin that his mother was implying that she had not been positive he would come. It shocked him that she would think that. His father had just had a stroke. _Was his family so out of touch with one another they did not expect to even see each other in these low moments?_

His mother pulled a second chair over next to hers and sat back down. Martin made his way over and numbly sat down beside her. She gently slid her delicate hand into his larger calloused one.

Beside him, his mother fell into a reflective silence, gazing distantly at her husband of over 30 years. Martin had several questions and muddled thoughts but he could not find the words to voice them aloud. He was not sure he even wanted to know the answers. Instead, he gently squeezed her hand and stared down intently at his feet.

- - - - - -

Sam and Vivian headed back to the office with no further developments in the case. Dana's co-workers insisted that nothing seemed out of the ordinary and that she had headed home as usual at the end of her shift. They had also indicated that she always headed straight home.

As far as Sam could tell they were looking in the wrong places. As far as her colleagues were aware she was perfectly happy in her life. In fact there was very little Sam could see to explain this woman's strange disappearance.

Danny looked up as he heard Sam and Vivian returning. From the discouraged look on Sam's face he could tell that they had no new leads. He sighed, and leaned back in his chair, watching as Sam headed wearily for her desk. Being a close friend of Martin's he had always known that Martin had never gotten over her, and watching her now, Danny began to wonder if she had ever really gotten over Martin.

Arriving back at her desk Sam felt the tell-tale throbbing of an oncoming headache. She rubbed her temples irritably. Her day was steadily becoming one of those days where everything just went downhill from the start. The case was getting no where, she felt like crap, and worst of all she could not stop worrying about Martin.


	4. Photos

Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, any of the characters, storylines, or actors. However I do own my ideas.

Zai: Hope you are enjoying my actualy rather speedy updates - even if they are a little on the short side. Anyway, as always please read and review!

- - - - - -

The team was gathered around the conference table discussing the case when Jack walked into the bullpen from his office. He stopped at the head of the table and cleared his throat loudly. The four members of his team looked up at him expectantly.

"We've found her," he said simply as he sat down at the table.

Four puzzled faces starred back at Jack, and he explained the phone call he had just received from a nearby hospital. "Someone was driving by and found her car off the side of a road, it was down a small embankment, so no one noticed it right away. She was unconscious inside. It looks like her car was hit, causing her to lose control and go over the edge. NYPD is looking into it, but they think it was likely a drunk driver. Regardless it's going to be hard for them to track down who hit her."

"Will she be all right?" Elena asked concerned.

Jack nodded. "The doctors are confident she will make a full recovery." The rest of the team looked relieved. It was always a good day when they found them alive.

Getting up from the table Danny pulled down Dana's photo from the board. "Does her husband know?"

"I was just about to make the call," Jack replied rising as well. Before returning to his office, he turned back to his team, he could tell they were still concerned over Martin's abrupt departure, "Good work today. Why don't you guys head off early? The paper work can wait until later," he suggested knowing the team could use a little extra time off anyway.

They agreed gratefully and began to pack up. Jack disappeared back into his office to relay the good news about Dana to Mr. Jamieson, her husband. He thanked Jack about a dozen times before hanging up so he could head to the hospital to be with her.

Danny and Sam walked out together, each occupied in their own thoughts of the friend they both held close. Sam wondered if Danny knew anything more about Martin's absence, but he seemed as baffled as she did. On the one hand, this made Sam feel as though she was not as far out of Martin's life as she knew she was. On the other, it made her even more worried. Martin had always been the most open member of the team. He dealt with things by talking, unlike herself or Danny, who tended to bottle everything up inside.

More and more she had noticed Martin seeming to become very withdrawn. At first she had just assumed everything would go back to normal as he recovered from his addiction, but now she was not sure. It was not like Martin to not even tell Danny, his best friend, why he was gone.

The two agents parted in the parking lot, wishing each other a good night, each heading to their own vehicle. Sam pushed the key in the ignition and headed out of the parking lot of the federal building. She did not really want to go home to her empty apartment and her worries, but she knew there was really nothing else she could do.

- - - - - -

Martin unlocked the front door to his parent's large home. Although his mother had refused to leave the hospital herself, she had insisted that Martin take her car and stay at their spacious house. He knew she was already burnt out, but he had realized it was useless to try to convince her to leave. Martin was quite certain that she would not leave her husband's side for as long as he remained in the hospital.

In the entrance hall he flicked on the light, closing the front door behind him. Despite the obvious emptiness of the three-floored house, even it seemed more homely then his apartment back in New York. He headed up the polished wooden staircase, to the bedrooms.

Although he had not stayed over in Washington since Christmas nearly five years ago, he knew he still had one of the rooms designated as his. He wandered down the hall slowly, gazing at the many family portraits on the wall. They were all so posed, all taken by professional photographers.

He knew that there were plenty of other photos of him and his mother in the photo albums she kept, ones from holidays and outings. However, his father was distinctly absent in most of them. Martin knew it was because he had rarely been home, and almost never went on vacations with them. Not for the first time, Martin wished he could have shared a close relationship with his father as a child. Or either of his parents for that matter. His mother had travelled with her husband a fair amount, often leaving Martin with his aunt.

Entering his bedroom, Martin dropped the small bag he had brought in the corner and flopped down on the bed tiredly, not bothering to change. The day seemed exceedingly long, and Martin closed his eyes just willing it to be over. However, he knew that tomorrow would bring more of the same.

He had spent hours with his strung-out mother at the hospital. He did all he could to be there for her, leaving himself feeling drained, but things did not look good for Victor Fitzgerald. He had not woken up yet, and the doctors were worried that he might not wake up at all.

What troubled Martin the most was that he still felt very little. His own father could be dying and he did not even now how he felt about it._ What kind of son was he?_

Martin rolled over onto his side and tried to put the jumble of thoughts out of his mind. It was late and he was tired, but sleep would not come.

The dead silence in the large house was beginning to unnerve Martin. Which made no sense; he lived alone. He should be used to the silence of an empty house. Yet, for some reason he wished someone was there with him. He felt so alone. Even when he had been with his mother, he had felt alone.

He reached for his cell phone. Thinking that if he called someone, anyone, it would make the feeling go away. He stared at the small screen on his phone for a long time, before finally closing it and placing it aside._ Who could he call anyway?_ No one understood him anymore. _He did not even understand himself. _


	5. Just to Hear Her Voice

Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, any of the characters, storylines, or actors. However I do own my ideas.

Zai: Thanks for the reviews, keep them coming? Anyway here is chapter 5

- - - - - -

Sam and Danny sat across from each other at a table in the break room. With no on-going cases thus far, the day had been slow, leaving them plenty of time for a lengthy break.

"Have you heard anything from Martin?" Sam asked quietly breaking the temporary silence the two agents had lapsed into.

Danny shook his head. "I tried to call but he didn't pick up."

Aimlessly, Sam stirred her coffee, "I'm sure he's fine... it just..." she muttered into her cup trailing off.

"He usual tells us what's up?" Danny guessed.

Sam nodded miserably. She felt as useless as she had when she started to notice the changes in Martin, when he had been doing drugs. She had known there was something wrong, but without knowing how to help there was nothing she could do.

Danny studied the blonde across from him carefully. _She definitely still has feelings for him, _Danny decided. He wanted to talk to her about it, but knew from his experience of broaching the subject with Martin, it was not something he could help with.

Sighing Samantha got to her feet. "Well, I guess we should get back, I have a mountain off back-logged paperwork on my desk."

Nodding in agreement Danny rose and followed his co-worker back out into the bullpen. They each headed back to their respective desks, to continue filing away old cases.

- - - - - -

Martin woke the next morning, unable to remember having fallen asleep at all. It took him a long moment before he realized where he was. Slowly, he dragged himself out of bed and headed into the bathroom.

He looked at the dishevelled man staring back at him from within the mirror for some time. His short brown hair stuck out at odd angles, and his clothes were quite wrinkled, since he had spent the night in them. His jaw was covered in a fine stubble. However, truth be told, Martin still felt far more hopeless than even his outward appearance indicated.

It was over half an hour later when Martin emerged from the bathroom, showered, shaved and freshly clothed. He did not feel hungry but managed to force down some breakfast. He then packed some food for his mother, who he was certain would forget to eat if he did not remind her.  
Before heading out to the car, Martin flipped open his phone and checked that there were no messages waiting for him. He considered phoning Jack at the office, but decided against it as he still did not know how long he was going to be away.

He drove slowly through the morning traffic back to the hospital where his family was. He hoped his father would be awake, or at least doing noticeably better. However, his hope was dashed when he reached the hospital.

His mother was standing in the doorway of her husband's room when Martin arrived. A nurse was just pulling a curtain around the bed, causing Martin to only get a short glance at the prone figure in the bed. As soon as the bed was out of sight, realization stuck Martin - _his father was dead. _

He felt a hand rest comfortingly on his shoulder, it was his mother's. He looked down at her and saw tears glistening in her eyes. "He's gone." She breathed, her voice trembled as she forced herself to say the words aloud.

Paling, Martin stared at the opaque curtain, behind which his father's body was lying. He felt at a loss for words._ How could his father leave him like this? He was never around when he had needed him as a child, and now he was leaving him as an adult too. _He knew his sudden anger was irrational but he did not care.

His mother was watching him closely, "I'm sorry Martin. I'm sorry it has to be like this."

Martin just shrugged half-heartedly, unable to force any words out past the lump in his throat. He turned away.

"I'm going to go for a walk," he croaked, needing to get out of the room. He could not just stand there any longer. He strode quickly down the corridor before his mother could respond. He felt unbearably selfish for leaving her at her time of need, but he could not handle this right now. He just could not.

- - - - - -

No one really noticed as Paula Van Doren entered the bullpen. She cleared her throat lightly and spoke in a commanding tone, "Could I have everyone's attention for a moment?" As she spoke the entirety of the bullpen quieted down.

"I am deeply saddened to have to announce that Deputy Director Victor Fitzgerald passed away this morning in a Washington hospital. He was a man who devoted his life to the bureau and he will be sorely missed." She said sincerely, deliberately keeping her gaze away from Jack Malone and the four members present from his team.

The announcement was met with a stunned silence from the floor. Most of whom knew the director's son Martin Fitzgerald, at least in passing.  
From where they sat at their desks, Danny and Sam exchanged startled looks. One thing was clear to them now, Martin was most definitely not at home, or even in the state. It hurt Sam that Martin would not come to her about this, but, as she reminded herself for the umpteenth time, it was her had forced him away. Not vice versa.

Van Doren continued by saying, "Let's observe a moment of silence in memory of Director Fitzgerald." After waiting a moment, Van Doren exited the bullpen. She had made similar announcements to those under her command before, but usually the death did not pertain so close to one of her agents.

She knew that Martin Fitzgerald was not presently at work, but she knew it would likely be uncomfortable for him when he returned, having the entire building knowing of his father's death. But as the director's position in the bureau was so high, it was undoubted that the entire office would have known before his son's return, regardless of being officially told.

It did not take long before the New York branch of the Federal Bureau had returned to its bustle of activity. After all, there was always work to be done. However the five members of the Missing Persons Unit remained in a muted silence. All their thoughts on the absent member of the team.

Glancing up Sam noticed Danny checking his cell phone for missed calls. It was obvious he too wondered why Martin had not shared this with them, or at least him.

Sam suspected Jack had known about this when Martin had left the other day. She did not blame him for not telling the team. Enough of Martin's life was public knowledge because of his father's position, he deserved the privacy Jack had managed to give him. Even if it was only shortly lived.

She idly tossed around the prospect of phoning him and offering him her condolences. But then she realized it was probably the last thing Martin wanted to talk about at the moment. Right now he needed to be with his family, if he wanted to talk to her, there would be time later.

- - - - - -

Martin walked until he found himself in a secluded garden behind the large hospital. He sank down onto a wooden bench that face away from the off-white concrete wall of the building. Dropping his head into his hands he stared at the gravel under his feet.

He felt as if he should be crying. Or at least feeling something other then anger and disgust for himself. However, nothing came.

Sitting there alone on the bench he was oddly reminded of a park back in New York. However he had not been alone on that bench. Samantha had been with him. It had been early in their relationship, before the fighting had started.

Martin reached into his pocket and drew out his cell phone. He needed her, or at least he needed to hear her voice. Even if everything was over between them, she always tried to tell him they were still friends.

He dialled the number and listened to the slow ring on the other end of the line.


	6. Reaching Out

Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, any of the characters, storylines, or actors. However I do own my ideas.

Zai: And now, finally on to a Sam/Martin moment. hope you enjoy.

- - - - - -

Sam sat at her desk reading through yet another old case file. Double checking the paper work was in order she closed it and picked up the next from the seemingly endless stack. It was amazing just how far behind they managed to get sometimes, she mused. The ringing of her phone brought Sam out of her thoughts.

"Spade," Sam said absently, still reading through the file she had just opened.

"Hey, Sam."

Upon hearing the familiar voice on the other end Sam stopped what she was doing and gave the caller her full attention. "Hey," she replied unsure what else to say.

"How did the case go the other day?" Martin asked trying to sound casual. He did not know if Samantha knew about his father, and he really was not sure he was ready to talk about it yet.

"We found her," Sam replied wondering if that was all Martin had called about, but then figuring if he had just wanted an update he could have phoned Jack. _But he hadn't, he had phoned her._ "Her car got ran off the road, she was hurt but she's going to be okay." Sam said giving him the basics of the previous day's case.

"That's good."

"Yeah," Sam agreed lamely.

On the other end of the line Martin fell silent for a long moment. Sam almost wondered if he had hung up on her when he finally spoke again. "I guess you're working..." he muttered quietly.

"We don't have any cases," she hurriedly explained not wanting him to hang up. "It's been quite slow actually. We are just getting caught up on backlogged files."

"Oh. Well a slow day is always a good day," Martin replied with false perkiness.

"Yup," was all Sam could think to reply. She wondered if she should broach the subject of Martin's father when he spoke up again.

"I'm in Washington," he said slowly wondering if he would be able repeat the words he had just heard his mother say, "My dad..." he trailed off momentarily before shakily finishing, "He died."

"I know Martin," Sam admitted. "I'm so sorry. If there is anything you need, you just have to ask." She had wanted to offer he condolences earlier but had wanted to let Martin broach the subject.

The two agents fell silent. Martin stirred the gravel beneath him with his shoe. If there is anything you need. His mind spun at those words. _The only thing I need right now Samantha, is you. _

"Do you have the weekend off?"

The sudden question startled Sam and it took her a moment to respond. "Yes, well unless a case comes up I guess."

The question had startled Martin too. He had not meant to ask, it just sort-of popped out on its own. However, he had wanted to know the answer. He wanted to know the answer to next question even more, "Sam? Would you come to Washington?"

Hearing the pained undertone in Martin's voice, Sam made a split-second decision. It went against everything she tried to tell herself, about it being over between them, but at the moment she did not care. "Sure."

Martin felt strangely relieved knowing Samantha would be coming to be there with him. He had begun to feel like he was drowning, now it was like he could see the surface again. Still reluctant to be alone with his thoughts he kept Samantha on the phone for nearly another half hour.

They talked of inconsequential things, leaving Martin feeling almost normal as he hung up the phone. Sam had promised to phone him when she got a flight booked. He did not know why she had agreed to come, but he did not care. It had felt so good just to be talking to her, the way the used too.

It still took Martin some time before he forced himself to re-enter the hospital. His mother was sitting in the waiting room. She looked like she had aged years in only the short time Martin had been gone. She looked up as he walked over to her.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," he whispered still ashamed at how he had run off. "I shouldn't have taken off like that." He looked down at her feeling horrible for leaving her after the news she had just received.

She gave him a weak smile. "It's okay Marty. This is hard on us both."

He nodded and sat down beside her, taking her hand in his.

"I know things were not the best between you," his mother started gently, "You are both so headstrong. But he did love you Marty."

"I know," he mumbled, squeezing her hand comfortingly.

"You're a good person, Martin. Your father and I both know it. He was always proud of you, even when he did not show it," she said with a sad sigh, "I just can't believe he is gone." She said her voice barely more then a whisper, as she fought to hold back a new bout of tears.

Martin waited patiently while his mother cried. When she had finished he rose to his feet. "Let's go home," he said softly, knowing his mother was worn out. And after she got some sleep he knew that they would have a lot of arrangements to make.

They got up together and headed out of the hospital. Neither noticing any of the people who walked by, both to caught up in their own forms of grief. Martin drove and his mother tiredly closed her eyes, the occasional tear still streaking down her pale face.

- - - - - -

Jack looked up as someone tapped gently on his office door. Putting down the folder he was holding he gestured for the younger, blonde agent to enter. "What can I help you with?" he asked Sam.

"Jack, I was wondering if I could have Friday off," It was midafternoon on Thursday and Sam was not sure she could make it through the entire day tomorrow at work. Not after the conversation she had just had with a certain unhappy, blue-eyed, agent.

It was not hard for Jack to guess that this sudden request had to do with Martin's loss. He knew it would be hard if a case came in and he was two agents short, but he also knew it would be better for Martin if he had Sam there for him. "Okay, but if we get a big case, you're going to have to get back here asap."

Sam nodded and thanked Jack before heading out of his glass-walled office. She returned to her desk and booked a flight leaving early the next morning. Afterwards, she called Martin back but was transferred to his automated message. She figured he was with his mother, so she left her flight information and then hung up.

Across the room Danny sat at his desk. Sam headed over to him. She had the feeling Danny would not be upset Martin had called her instead of him, but she knew he would care if she did not tell him she had heard from their absent colleague.


	7. Anytime

Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, any of the characters, storylines, or actors. However I do own my ideas.

Zai: Here is chapter 7. Enjoy and please review.

- - - - - -

Midmorning, the next day, found Martin standing in the arrival's portion of the large Washington terminal. After coming home from the hospital the previous night, Martin's mother had basically gone straight to bed and had not wakened until the morning. She had decided to stay home and make phone calls to the rest of the family. She had planned on calling the funeral home as well, but Martin had insisted she let him take care of it.

Glancing at the computer screen Martin could see that the plane, which had only a few hours earlier been taking off in New York, was now landing on schedule. It took a few moments before the passengers began to disembark.

Leaning back against a railing, Martin watched as a young man, carrying a large suitcase, hurried forward to tenderly kissed his waiting wife and then bend down to hug the red-faced toddler by her side.

After the young family, he watched two men curtly shaking hands. He guessed that they were meeting for business. It was strange how many different people were caught up in their own moments. Completely focussed on being back with friends and family, or simply caught up in work preparations. Unaware of the lone man watching them, desperately trying to forget the moment he was caught up in.

It was then that he caught sight of her. Her long blonde hair hung loose and swayed slightly as she walked toward him. She was dressed casual in blue jeans, a light top and a darker blue open sweater. In one hand she held the handle to a small black suitcase which rolled behind her on two small wheels.

"Martin," she said, sympathy clearly evident in her voice, embracing him in a quick hug. "I'm so sorry."

"Let me take that." Martin said gesturing to her bag.

Sam laughed quietly, "It's on wheels, Martin. I think I can manage."

"Fine, have it your way," he retorted playfully, "But let me tell you, this is exactly why chivalry is dead." It felt good to forget everything and have a normal conversation, if even only for a short while.

Sam rolled her eyes and followed Martin out into the parking lot.

"We're parked over here," Martin said leading Sam toward his mother's car.

"Nice car," she commented.

Martin shrugged, "It's my mom's, Dad... Dad bought it for Christmas one year," he mumbled and Sam clearly heard how his voice caught as he said 'dad'.

Unlocking the doors with the automated device on the key chain, he held the side door open for Sam. "I thought chivalry was dead," Sam said trying to bring back some lightness to the now sombre mood.

Martin just flashed her a sad smile before heading around to the driver's seat.

They spent most of the ride in silence, only interrupted as Sam asked if Martin was sure he did not want her to get a hotel room.

"There is plenty of room," he assured her.

Sam saw what he meant when the pulled into the driveway of the rather large home. "Did you grow up here?" She asked wonderingly.

"Nah. We didn't move here, until I was almost through highschool, grade 11 I think." Martin said as he parked the car. "I always thought it was strange for them to buy such a large house when I was moving out soon. I guess Mom will probably move now..." He said tailing off.

Sam said nothing, following Martin into the Fitzgerald's home. He showed her to a spare room upstairs and then they went downstairs together to find his mother. She was sitting in the living room staring off into space.

"Mom?" Martin asked gently drawing her back to the present.

"Oh, your back," she said sounded slightly startled. "And this must be your friend Samantha?" she said holding out her hand which Sam accepted gently.

"Mrs. Fitzgerald, I'm so sorry about your loss."

"Thank you dear, and please, it's Madeline."

Sam nodded and let Martin lead her over to the sofa where they sat down together.

"I've been on the phone all morning," she said sounding rather tired, "Roger and the kids will try to get out soon," she added to Martin.

"That's good," he commented before rising. "That reminds me, I promised I'd phone the funeral home," he said as he headed into the hall where the nearest phone was.

- - - - - -

Several hours later Martin and Sam found themselves alone on the back steps. Martin had spent a great deal of time conversing with the funeral director. He had set the ceremony for Tuesday. He knew it was short notice, but he figured it was best if they could get everything taken care off before he had to return to New York.

Sam studied his silent profile. She had been with Martin long enough to know how hard the news of his father passing was hitting him. He had not said much about it, but Sam knew he would talk about it in his own time.

They sat in silence for quite some time. Sam shifted her gaze onto the neatly trimmed gardens that made up the backyard. It was really quite a peaceful spot, sitting there in the Fitzgerald's backyard.

Sam's mind had begun to wander, her thoughts going back to similar quiet moments she had shared with Martin when they were a couple. A quiet sob from her side startled her back to the moment. She turned and found Martin had dropped his head into his hands and his shoulders shook slightly as he finally gave into the grief.

Gently Sam placed her hand on his broad shoulders. She said nothing, as there was nothing to say. Martin knew all the 'comfort lines' they used on the grieving families. What he really needed was to let it out, and to know that she was there.

Martin had not known what brought on the tears. They just came and he could not stop them as the fell down his face. He felt Samantha's hand on his shoulder. She always seemed to comfort him in his dark times. He remembered how she had been there when he had found out about his aunt's cancer.

Slowly the tears began to subside. He swiped at the streaks that the tears had left down his cheek. "Thank you Sam, for being here."

"Anytime, Marty." She said quietly.


	8. Can't Find the Words

Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, any of the characters, storylines, or actors. However I do own my ideas.

Zai: Thanks all for the reviews, keep them coming!!

- - - - - -

Martin stood in his room dressed neatly in a dark suit. He adjusted his tie and then glanced at his watch. It was nearly time to get ready to head down to the cemetery. His uncle and cousins had arrived the previous night and Sam had managed to convince Jack to let her stay.

The team had wanted to come, to be there for Martin. However, a case had come up and they were running two agents short as it was. Danny had phoned the previous evening and given Martin his condolences.

A quiet knock sounded on the door and Martin opened it to find Samantha waiting on the other side. "How you holding up?" She asked quietly. She had left her hair down and was wearing a simple black blouse with a dark skirt.

"I'm doing fine," he assured her.

"Marty?" His Uncle Roger called up from downstairs. "We've got to get going."

"Coming." He called back and, gesturing for Samantha to go ahead, he followed her down into the entrance hall. The service was going to be small, only family and close friends. The FBI was holding a separate memorial-wake type service for colleagues of the Deputy Director to pay their respects.

Sam had been a little hesitant about coming, feeling she would be intruding on the grieving family. But Martin had asked her to come, and she had agreed. She knew he was trying to hold everything inside, trying to be strong for his mother, but he needed someone to be there for him too.

They took two cars and arrived together at the peaceful graveyard where Martin had arranged for the service to be held. Sam and Martin walked together with Martin's mother. They sat in the front row, the rest of the family sat just behind them. Many of Madeline's and Victor's friends came to express their condolences to Madeline and Martin before they took seats further back.

In short order the service began. Martin tried hard to focus on the words the pastor read, but everything just seemed so far away. He knew that his mother was crying beside him. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

Before the service the pastor had approached Martin, asking him if he had wanted to say a few words. Martin had declined, but even as he knew he could never find the words to say, he felt like he was letting his father down, again, by not speaking.

Lost in thought Martin stared down at the coffin where his father now lay. His mother had said that his father had been proud of him. But had he really? Most of Martin's life was a contradiction of everything his father had wanted for him.

Moving away from DC, joining the FBI, everything. In some twisted way Martin almost felt that even the things he had no control over, his getting shot for instance, had also disappointed his father.

The coffin beginning its slow decent into the ground forced Martin back into the present. He hated himself for being so pathetic, wallowing in his own self-pity while his mother needed him to be better than that.

Soon it was all over. Friends got up and bid the family well before leaving. Martin stood staring down at the fresh dirt over the grave. Distant from the world, he did not even notice that only him, his family, and Sam remained at the cemetery. Sam came up behind him and touched his arm gently. "Hey."

"Hey," He said his voice barely above a whisper.

"You know I have to head back to New York tonight." Sam said slowly.

"Yeah, I'll drop you off. I should be coming back in a few days. I just need to make sure Mom will be all right." He said turning to face Sam. Behind him he could see his uncle talking to his mother. They both looked reflective and he wondered if they were talking about his father.

Sam smiled. It was so like Martin to place everyone else above his own feelings and needs. He had done that in their relationship too, _until he just could not give in anymore._ "You know I will always be ready to listen when you want to talk." Sam said simply before heading over to the cars. Everyone else had left, and Madeline was finally ready to leave as well.

- - - - - -

The house seemed rather empty as Martin returned from dropping Sam at the airport. His uncle and cousins all had to get back and had also left after the service. He found his mom sitting in the living room staring at a wedding photo.

He sat down beside her. In the photo, both his parents looked so young and carefree. A sharp contrast from the grieving widow who sat beside him now.

She gently placed the picture down on the coffee table. "Shouldn't you be off to New York too?" She asked her son, knowing he did not usually get much time off work. Like her husband had, he worked too much.

"Soon." Martin replied, "I wanted to stay with you awhile longer."

"Your such a sweet boy." His mother said patting him on the arm. "I don't know how I would have survived this past week without your support."

Martin could find no reply. He just put his arm around his mother and hugged her gently.

"I knew what your father's job was like when I married him," She said sadly breaking off onto another subject completely, "But I really do wish he could have been around more, for your sake mostly."

Martin shrugged, "He did what he thought was best. He provided for us."

"I know, it just seems he missed so much, and now he will miss even more. We won't grow old together." She said with a sad sigh, "And one day when you have your own family, he'll miss that too. I'm sure he would have like to meet the girl who could hold your heart." She said with a weak smile.

Martin returned her smile, thinking to himself, don't worry, _he's already met the only girl who could ever hold my heart._


	9. Make it Work

Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, any of the characters, storylines, or actors. However I do own my ideas.

Zai: Okay, I'm never great with endings, but here it is, the final chapter. I Hope you have enjoyed my story, and I hope you like the ending. All the reviews were greatly apprecited.

- - - - - -

The four days Sam had been back in New York had passed quickly. Work had consumed much of her time, they were still one agent short. However, most of her free time had been consumed by thoughts of Martin.

She had known she still had some feelings for him, but after the last few days with him in DC she had begun to realize just how much she cared for him, _she loved him._ She wondered if he still had feelings for her. _He had called her to be with him... _

A hesitant knock on her door jolted Sam from her fantasizing. She got up from where she sat on the sofa and opened the door. Standing in front of her door, rocking on the balls of his feet, was Martin.

"Hey, hope its not a bad time." Martin said with a small smile.

_Its never a bad time_, "No, its fine," Sam said moving away from the door to let him come in. "You just get back?"

"Yeah."

"You want anything? A drink?" Sam offered.

"No thanks." Martin replied coming to stand in Sam's living room. It had been such a long time since he had been at her home. In fact he was not sure why he had come here tonight at all. She had said she would be there to listen whenever he was ready. He wanted to be ready now.

Sam sat down on the couch and indicated Martin should sit next to her. He sat down slowly wondering why he had not been able to stop thinking about Samantha in the four days since she had left DC.

After they had sat in silence for sometime Sam spoke up, "How was your flight?" The question felt lame, but she could think of nothing else to say.

"Good." Martin replied slowly, then added after a slight pause, "My mom is doing better."

"That's good to hear." Sam said nodding.

"Yeah, I still can't really believe he is gone." Martin admitted. "I can't even remember what I last said to him."

Sam put her hand over Martin's, "He knew you loved him Martin, even if you did not always see eye-to-eye. I remember how worried he was when you got shot. He really was proud of you."

Martin nodded slowly, "I know, and yet my mind still tells me that I was a disappointment." It was hard for Martin to bring himself to talk about his father.

Sam listened intently. She knew Martin needed this outlet. He needed to finally sort through his complicated feelings in the aftermath of his father's sudden death. She was glad he had come to her, _trusted her with this._

As Martin finished revealing his pain at his father's death, they shifted onto lighter conversation. Falling back into a comfortable banter between friends. Sam was not sure she could pin point when the transition had occurred. With anyone else, she was sure she would have felt uncomfortable, after hearing all Martin had said. But with Martin it was so different.

She knew she had never felt this comfortable, this right, with anyone before, and she did not want to lose this again. She knew that this was probably the worst of times for her to realize how much she still wanted, _needed_, Martin. However, she also knew if she did not force herself to face her barriers and insecurities now, they would just become more firmly entrenched in her life.

Martin had been so relieved when he voiced his mixed feelings about his father aloud. It just felt so natural to confide in Samantha. He hoped he was not asking too much of her, by coming here tonight. _Or too much of himself_. The more time he spent around Samantha, the more he realized how he missed her, how he never wanted to leave her.

As the evening wore on he knew he should leave. "Thank you, Sam, for listening." He murmured getting up from where he sat on the sofa.

"Martin?" She said grasping his hand causing him to stop. Slowly she took a breath and looked up at him. She knew he had been hurt by her, in their previous relationship. It was probable he would not want her back, but she knew if anyone would be willing to give her a second chance, it was Martin. "I know this is not really the best time," She started knowing she was rambling. "But I think we need to talk... about us."

Martin stared down at her, and she stared deep into his icy-blue eyes, "I know I hurt you. I forced you away and I'm so sorry." She looked away. He had not said anything yet and Sam was so worried she was too late.

It took Martin a while to find his voice after Samantha's sudden leap onto talking about their relationship, "I know Sam. It's not all your fault. I pushed too hard, tried to rush you."

Sam shook her head and looked back up at Martin. "There is so much I wish I had done different..."

"There is still time." Martin whispered quietly. He had not expected Samantha to bring this up, he would not have, despite how much he longed to hold her again. However, now that she had, he wanted her to know he was willing to try again. "We could still make it work... if you are willing to try. I'm not saying it is going to be easy. But together, if we talk, we can sort through the hard times."

In the past this sort of talk would have just been words, said aimlessly before they headed for the bedroom. They both knew that their physical attraction was strong and a healthy part of a relationship, but in the past, it had been all that held their relationship together.

If this was going to work between them, they knew that their would be fights and compromises, but most importantly they knew it had to be based on an emotional rather than physical level.

"I promise I'll try to be more forthcoming with everything." Sam muttered as Martin sat back down beside her, still holding her hand in his.

"And I'll try my best to bear with you through everything." Martin replied playfully bringing her into his arms and kissing her gently on the top of her head. "You know that this time, we can't run around behind closed doors." He told her gently. He knew that keeping their relationship a secret from everyone, was what had killed him last time.

"I know," Despite how badly she wanted to be with him, Martin could still hear the nervousness in her voice as she agreed to letting the team know about their being together.

"You know Samantha," Martin said quietly tilting her head up so he could look into her dazzling brown eyes, "I think I'm in love with you." He said before kissing her tender lips passionately, as he had dreamed of doing for the longest of time.

- - - - - -

Sam took a deep breath and looked up at Martin nervously. He gently squeezed her hand trying to reassure her. They stood alone in the break room. Their shift had not started yet, but the rest of the team was likely to arrive anytime now. "You ready for this?" He asked her gently.

"I think so." Sam said trying to sound confident.

"You know," Martin whispered mischievously, "We could just start making out in here, and let them figure it out. It would save us spelling it out." A well placed elbow in his gut informed him of what his girlfriend thought of his plan. "Well you don't have to be mean." He muttered with a smile.

"Or," Martin said pausing while Sam considered elbowing him again, "We could just tell Danny to start with."

"Because we all know Danny would never let a soul know." Sam said with a smirk, knowing that within moments half the office would know. No it was better just to tell them all she figured.

"Save us some time." Martin said but did not have time to add anything else as he saw Danny walking down the hall towards the bullpen. Within a few minuets Vivian and Elena had arrived. Jack as usual had been there for some time already.

Taking one last deep breath Sam let Martin lead her out into the bullpen. She was still holding his hand but no one could tell from where they were seated. Danny looked up as the entered together and shot Martin a quizzical look. "Funny how you two can show up at the exact same time, your alarms synchronized or something?" He teased lightly.

"No, we just used the same clock." Martin shot back grinning broadly.

It took Danny a moment before realization spread across his face. Surprised he glanced questioningly at Sam, who blushed and nodded. "Hey, congrats guys!"

This had caught the whole team's attention who now looked up at the couple standing before them. Elena and Vivian also offered the newly re-united couple their well-wishes. Jack just nodded, giving Martin a look that said, 'just make her happy.' Martin nodded back.

Sam looked up at the man standing beside her. It had been hard, but with Martin by her side she felt almost as if anything was possible. She felt him squeeze her hand gently before he slipped his hand from hers. They still had work to do. Reluctantly Sam sat down at her own desk, her hand still tingling from the previous contact.


End file.
